A little book of tribune verse :: :: University of Virginia Library

See the madly blowing dust,
Oh! the dust!
How it revels in the gust,
How it covers with a crust
Of tenacious, gritty must
Ev'ry object in the street.
It is monarch of us all
When it rises up, we fall,
When it comes,
When it hums,
Ev'ry kind of business flags,
Ev'ry branch of business lags,
And it gags
As it snags
Ev'ry class of trade afloat.
It is death to eyes and throat,
For it kills
As it fills
Ev'ry eye and ev'ry throat,
Oh, the dust, dust, dust!
Yet it's useless to complain,
Intercessions are in vain,

173

But it's far from being just
We should suffer so with dust,
Since the city is not bust,
Oh, the dust,
It is here, it is there,
It is flying everywhere!
How it permeates the air!
Oh, the dust!
How it's cuss'd.

November 6th, 1882.